Chapter 4: Wake Up - a podcast by Unsung Stories

This is her farewell.

Her, mere mortal, pinned against those lovely lovely bones...
And she didn't think, the dark dirt would feel so... warm
against bruised skin that reeks of uninvited atrophy
that hangs like a mantle, on a wall, in some home..

And she'd like to think of herself so worthy
that maybe she'd live long enough...
To hunt the hunter and hang his head on a wall...

And in that darkness she remembered breath
and solitude's impassive purveyor

But I'm not ready, I'm not ready...

But don't you know lovely human, so certain of your demise
what is death to the dead, but another rising tide?

Wake up...

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